Wrath

by Victoria Christopher Murray

  She laughed again, but then her chuckles faded as she kept her eyes on me. I didn’t falter.

  “Xavier.”

  “I’m not kidding,” I said. Standing, I moved to the closet, grabbed the other bathrobe, then turned back to her.

  Sitting on the side of the bed, I took her hands into mine. “Let’s just get married. Why wait?”

  “I can think of more than a couple of reasons, but two of them live in New York. We haven’t even told my parents we’re engaged.”

  “So instead of telling them we’re getting married, we’ll tell them we already are.”

  She shook her head so hard, I hoped I wouldn’t have to take her to the ER for whiplash. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because…” She paused, searching for reasons. “My parents would want to be part of this. They’d want to plan the wedding and the reception, not to mention my father would certainly want to perform the ceremony.”

  I needed to leave this city with Chastity believing we were married. If not, I’d lose her, of that I was sure. Maybe not this week, maybe not this month, but definitely sometime this year. Women always left sometime around a year.

  They left because we weren’t married.

  I squeezed her hand. “If we had a wedding, there would be no one there for me except Bryce. I don’t have anyone, Chastity, so why would I want to wait for an event that has nothing to do with me? I want to be someplace where it’s just the two of us,” I said, and in those words I heard an echo. Almost like my mother’s voice on top of mine. Just the two of us.

  “But, Xavier—”

  “I don’t want to lose you, Chastity.”

  She snatched her hands away from mine, startling me. But before I could assign negativity to her action, she wrapped her arms around me. “You are not going to lose me. I promise,” she whispered over and over. Her breath was hot on my skin, sending sensations I had to fight to ignore. When she pulled back, she cupped my face in her hands. “Why don’t you believe me?”

  I broke away from her hold and turned away. Staring straight ahead, I said, “You don’t understand.”

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed and then pulled me to her. “Tell me,” she whispered. “Tell me what I’m missing.”

  As my head rested on her chest, I closed my eyes, and in my mind I held her hand, taking Chastity back with me. To the year when it all changed. To the year that was the reason why I had to do this now…

  February 14, 1999

  I didn’t have to stand on the chair anymore to reach the top of my closet. Just rising up on my toes, I felt around the shelf and found the brown box I’d made five years before in wood shop. It was a special project, a gift for Mother’s Day. I’d carved two hearts in the top of my box, and the words JUST THE TWO OF US. Even after all of this time, I still hoped for the day when I’d be able to give this to my mother.

  Once I had the box steadied, I cracked open my bedroom door.

  “Yeah, Virginia. That pastor was creepin’ and…”

  Easing the door shut, I returned to my bed. There were no surprises inside the box, but I did this every year on my birthday. I sifted through the box’s contents—eight years of cards filled with notes and money.This was my annual ritual: counting, even though I knew exactly how much I had. To this point: five hundred and fifty dollars. It felt like a million dollars to me, and I wondered how much my mother would send me this year. She’d sent me seventy-five dollars every year, except last year, for my thirteenth birthday, she’d sent me a one-hundred-dollar bill. I’d never seen one of those. That made me even more excited about this year. Was there such a thing as a two-hundred-dollar bill?

  But the excitement I felt couldn’t make up for the sadness I held. I would return all this money to my mama if she’d just come back and get me. In the beginning, that’s how she’d signed every card: I love you so much, X-baby. I promise, I’m coming back for you. We’re gonna be a family. Just the two of us.

  Then last year, she only signed: Love you so much, X-baby. I’d stared at those words, refusing to believe that the absence of her promise meant she wasn’t coming back. That thought hadn’t been new; I’d been wondering if I’d see my mom again ever since Aunt Virginia told me about her and Bobby Washington. Ever since she’d said Gran wouldn’t let my mama return.

  My hope was that this year, Mama’s promise would be back in my birthday card. When I heard my grandmother’s slippers dragging on the hallway floor, I slid the box under my bed. Her footsteps faded toward the front, and I grabbed my book, a Richard Wright novel, from the table, lay back, and opened to the place where I’d left off. But it was hard to concentrate because I expected Gran to call out at any moment, letting me know I had mail.

  After about ten minutes, though, her footsteps returned to her bedroom. That was weird. Getting the mail was the last thing she did every night. She didn’t let me touch it; she told me I had no business in her business. So I left the mail alone, since nothing ever came for me—except on this day every year.

  Pushing myself up, I made my way to the door, hearing only the faint hum of her TV. Why was Gran keeping my birthday card from me?

  It had been about a year since she’d hit me, maybe because I was a lot taller than her now. Even without a switch in her hand, though, she ruled with a fist that was heavier than iron and a heart of steel.

  But there was no way I was going to bed without my birthday card. I made my way to her bedroom and tapped on the open door.

  With a scowl, she glanced up from where she was sprawled across the purple-flowered bedcover. Then she growled words that sounded a bit like “What you want?”

  “Did my mama… send me… something today?”

  Her glare stayed on me, and even though for almost two years I’d known why she treated me the way she did, it didn’t make it easier to accept her hatred.

  She waved her hand. “Oh, you’re talking about your birthday card?”

  That was surprising. In all these years, she’d never said happy birthday. Before, I thought it was because she couldn’t remember what day I’d been born. After Aunt Virginia, I realized it was that she wanted to forget. She wanted to forget the day, and she wanted to forget me—except I came with money.

  I answered, “Yeah, from my mama.”

  “How your mama gonna send you a card, boy? She’s dead.”

  I stood there, frowning, not understanding. “Ma’am?”

  “Your mama died.”

  My heart stomped all across my chest. “No.” She stared at me without giving me other words to help me understand. “My mama died?”

  “Didn’t I just tell you that?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, wondering if, hoping that I was dreaming. “How… What happened to my mama?” My voice trembled.

  Gran’s eyes narrowed. “Boy, if you don’t get out of here with all that foolishness… I don’t know why you cared about her; she didn’t care about you. Nobody cares about you.”

  It didn’t matter to me if her plan was to insult me all night long. She’d spat out a litany of slurs over the years, but she could repeat all of that and make up new words to wound me—I didn’t care. I was going to stand here until she explained what had happened to my mama.

  “Did you hear what I said, boy?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that she’d died? Where is she now? What about her funeral?”

  “All you need to know is that your mama died. She left you, never came back for you, and now she’s gone. So you just need to get on out of here.”

  “OH MY GOD, Xavier,” Chasity said, and she held me tighter, pressing me against her breast. The way her body trembled, I could tell she was weeping. My eyes blurred like they had that day, but I had no tears. Instead, as Chastity held me, I silently remembered the rest of that night, the part that I could never share with Chastity…

  Another time, another situation, I would have done what Gran told me to do. I would have walked away. But
I stood in her doorway because I couldn’t move. It was the fire that stopped me. The flames that seared through my veins. My eyes bulged; my fingers clutched—I felt like I was swelling into the Incredible Hulk.

  Gran’s eyes widened as she stared, as if she could see it, too, then her glance slid to my hands, my fingers flexing at my sides.

  “You got a problem, boy.”

  I wanted to know. I had to know. “What happened to my mama?” I asked, losing all the deference I’d ever had toward this woman.

  My tone shook her, because she backed up, though she didn’t back down. “I don’t know,” she said, her disdain now gone. “I don’t know,” she repeated, her voice more even than it had ever been.

  I pressed my lips together, not to hold back all the curses that were within me, but to hold the fire. Because if I opened my mouth, flames would burst out and I’d beat this old woman. I’d beat her until she told me about my mama, and then I’d keep going until she came to the same end.

  Her eyes were still on my fingers, but she stayed in her place. She knew. Tonight our world had shifted.

  When I finally cooled enough to pivot, I rushed to my bedroom, then slammed the door. But Gran wasn’t coming for me; she’d never come for me again. Because I felt it and she could see it. There was a volcano simmering inside of me, and she was smart enough not to be near when I erupted.

  I stomped from one end of my bedroom to the other, with those words pacing my steps: My mama is dead. My mama is dead. My mama is dead.

  I paced until I exploded and rammed my fist through the wall. As my knuckles broke through the plaster, the wall screamed, but I didn’t. Not even when blood spurted from my hand.

  For a moment, I expected Gran to come running. But then I remembered… tonight, our world shifted. She’d never come for me again.

  I grabbed a T-shirt from my drawer, wrapped it around my hand, and sat there thinking… My mama is dead… My mama is dead… My mama is dead.

  CHASTITY SQUEEZED ME tighter, and her embrace brought me back. She held me as if she was trying to shield me from all of my past pain. I sat up and wiped dry eyes. “I didn’t mean to dump all of that on you.”

  “Xavier.” Her voice was as soft as her touch as her fingertips glided against my cheek. “I’m so sorry. You didn’t even know.”

  It was hard to look at her. I didn’t want to see the pity in her eyes that I heard in her voice. “I never had the chance to say good-bye to the only person who ever loved me. That night, I thought I’d never smile again.” I turned to Chastity. “But then I found you. That’s why I don’t want to wait, baby. I can’t. I have the chance to bring balance to my life. You’re the good that can help me negate all of that bad. With you by my side, I’ll be able to do everything. I’ll be able to live up to whatever reason I’m here, whatever purpose I have.”

  She inhaled a sharp breath, and I wondered what I had said. After too many silent seconds, though, I realized my words, my pain, hadn’t moved her, and my heart sank to the arches of my soles.

  I stood, stumbling a bit, but before I could take too many steps, Chastity jumped up and pulled me back into her arms.

  She whispered, “Let’s get married.”

  Those three words were the life raft I needed. I rested my head in the crook of her neck, and right there, I cried, laying all of my burdens down.

  25 Chastity

  Using my hands, I wiped the mirror that had been clouded by the shower’s steam. The mist was thick; I’d remained under the heat of the water for at least twenty minutes, as if I was trying to cleanse more than my body. I stopped once the circle on the glass was large enough to see my reflection and I stood, staring at myself.

  More than an hour had passed, and I still couldn’t get it to make sense. “I’m getting married,” I whispered, hoping that speaking those words aloud would aid in my comprehension.

  I closed my eyes and took one of those cleansing breaths I’d learned from Kourtney’s class, clearing my brain so only those words would settle in. Was this what God wanted me to do?

  You are with a man who is your purpose. And you will be his purpose, too.

  My mother’s words echoed in my head.

  I’ll be able to live up to whatever reason I’m here, whatever purpose I have.

  Xavier’s words swelled my heart.

  When I opened my eyes, my reflection smiled back at me. This was what God wanted for me. So there was no need to hedge. Together, Xavier and I would work it out, even my parents.

  Thinking of them made me pause, it would be tough, I’d get them to understand: Xavier has to be special if God chose him to usher you into this time of your life.

  My mother’s words were true. He’d helped me, and I’d helped him. We were each other’s purpose.

  Taking a deep breath, I tightened my towel before I stepped into the bedroom. I paused as I took in Xavier, already dressed, casual in jeans partnered with a white golf shirt. His cell was pressed to his ear as he paced.

  “Okay,” Xavier said, not noticing me. “Okay,” he repeated as he continued his jaunt.

  I sat on the edge of the bed, watching the man who was about to become my husband.

  “I got it. The paperwork and the ceremony.”

  The ceremony.

  “You’ll text me with a time?” A pause. “Great. Thanks for everything, Will,” Xavier said, then when he stopped, he turned and noticed me. “Thank you for making this the best moment of my life.”

  The words were to whomever was on the phone, but the sentiment was all for me.

  “I’ll talk to you soon,” Xavier said, his eyes still on me.

  When he clicked off, a beat of silence passed before I asked, “So we can do this?”

  He nodded but then shook his head. “When I asked you to marry me, I was only thinking about wanting you to be my wife. I didn’t consider how we could make this happen, on a weekend and on a holiday. But”—he rubbed his head—“whew. We can do this.”

  “We can?” I hoped Xavier only heard my question and not the doubt that had, once again, began to rise within me.

  “Yeah. I have a couple of connections down here. It’s actually a friend from undergrad. His brother is a magistrate, so he’ll be able to do the paperwork and the ceremony.”

  “Wow! One-stop shopping, huh?” I said, trying to lighten the burden of the tension that hung heavy between us.

  “It’ll cost a bit of money, and we’ll have to do it today…”

  “Today?” I asked. The word kinda stuck in my throat. I knew we were doing this, but… today… was so… immediate.

  He nodded. “He only does this during the week, but I told him I’d pay him anything if he could do it today.”

  I nodded. “So”—I inhaled a load of air—“what do we have to do?”

  “Well, we have to get a marriage license; we just need photo IDs… oh, and…” He held up his finger. “If either of us has been divorced, we have to present our divorce decrees, too.” He gave me that half smile that moved every part of me.

  I laughed, finally feeling free. “Okay, I’ll only need my photo ID,” I said, moving my neck with each syllable. “So… what about you? Have you been married before?”

  He grinned, now seeming as relaxed as me. “I’ve never even gotten close to marriage because there’s never been a woman I wanted to spend my life with as much as you.” Those words hung in the air as seconds ticked by. Finally, he asked, “So… do you want to get dressed and do it?”

  “Are you… are we sure about this?”

  He knelt and took my hands into his. “Baby, I’ve never been more sure of anything. I love you; I want to marry you. Today.”

  Then he kissed me, and I knew not only was he telling the truth, I knew this was right.

  * * *

  GROWING UP, I didn’t believe in fairy tales and princesses and frogs that turned into princes. By the time I was ten, I pretty much believed in happily-never-after.

  With that as my backdrop,
I had no dreams of bridesmaids and dresses and flowers and wedding cakes. When I imagined my future, all of my joy was in becoming an enormously successful divorce attorney who helped women walk away.

  That’s why it felt some kind of crazy that I was here in Saks buying this dress alone. I turned to the mirror and studied my image at every angle in the three screens. After I tried on about a half-dozen options, I chose this ivory crepe fitted dress. It was lovely, stunning really, especially with the plunging V neckline, which Xavier would love. I’d honored his request for a long dress with this floor-sweeping skirt. That had been his attempt to bring some tradition to what we were about to do.

  “I want you to look the way I’ve imagined since I began to dream of you as my wife.”

  My effort at holding on to some semblance of tradition was that we arrive at the magistrate’s office separately.

  “While I’m out shopping for a dress, you can change, and then when you leave, I’ll come back, get dressed, and meet you there. We’ll see each other for the first time just a few minutes before we do this.”

  I thought that plan would bring a whole smile to Xavier’s face. But he looked at me sideways. “You’re not trying to get out of this, are you?” Before I could answer, he kept on, “I’m not going to be waiting in the magistrate’s office and then you never show up and I come back to this hotel, find that you’ve packed up, left town, and changed your cell phone number, am I?”

  The chuckle was rising inside of me, but then stuck in my throat when I realized there wasn’t an inkling of humor in his tone. Right away, I knew… he still wondered if I’d leave him.

  I pulled him into a hug. “I cannot wait to be your wife.” The tension drained from him as he held me. When I stepped back, I pressed my hand against his cheek. “All I want to do is look beautiful for you.” He nodded. “And you know what?” I added, “I want you to look your best for me, too. Think about these pictures, think about our kids,” I told him.

  That brought his grin back, and he moved across the room to the desk. He picked up his wallet and turned to me with his platinum card in hand.